


don't bare your soul just yet (and then he did)

by eggofangel



Category: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Mind the Rating, if it's not very obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23102698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggofangel/pseuds/eggofangel
Summary: At first, Tom is certain everything will play out just like it does in his head, and it will simply happen, as it’s meant to, as it should: perfectly, seamlessly, fearlessly. This will not be some terrifying new leap for him, touching another man, because he knows what a man is like. The two of them, they are the same.
Relationships: Huckleberry Finn/Tom Sawyer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	don't bare your soul just yet (and then he did)

Tom has so many grand ideas swirling relentlessly around in his head about any first of theirs, so it comes as no surprise to him when he puts much thought into _this_ first. He simply supposes there is a part of himself that wants to be seen, through and through, from the inside out. He wants _Huck_ to see. Tom supposes he may just want to invite Huck within the very center of his being and keep him there forever.

But even he knows that this may seem a bit of stretch for any first. Baby steps must be taken, so he saves the whole daunting “baring your soul to him” thing for later. A quickie seems much more appropriate for the impromptu occasion when it arises, doesn’t it? 

At first, Tom is certain everything will play out just like it does in his head, and it will simply _happen_ , as it’s meant to, as it should: perfectly, seamlessly, fearlessly. This will not be some terrifying new leap for him, touching another man, because he knows what a man is like. The two of them, they are the same. There is nothing new to learn about Huck, no new places for his hands to thoroughly wander, no unexplored nooks and crannies for him to discover.

And yet, the first time he holds Huck’s swollen cock in his hand, he is nervous. Excited, but nervous. He is reminded then, whether it be another man or a woman that he touches plays no part in calming frazzled nerves: both live outside of himself.

They had stumbled away from the village after a night brimful of flirtatious pinching and breathy laughter and small, coy glances. Tom tells himself that he cannot plan a night such as this one, but only push and tug and nudge along, and hope for the best. Huck had not left him disappointed. Now, they’re caught between the embrace of forest and river here, nestled beneath the shelter of the trees. The song of buzzing cicadas surrounds them.

The simpering playfulness between the pair has all but vanished. To actually touch one another—how formidable the task seems now that they actually face it.

There is a hungry urge inside of Tom, one that leaves him feeling strangely vulnerable. He only wants…to please Huck. That is all. And yet, how helpless it makes a man feel, to know he is wrapped so entirely around the finger of another that he would do anything, just about anything to please him, if only he asked. It is a fact about himself Tom is aware of that seems all too immense to accept.

“You alright?” Huck asks, snapping Tom out from his daze, face flushed pink; looking just as awkward and graceless as Tom, thankfully.

 _Oh._ Tom wets his lips and blinks, stomach in knots. Something innocent flashes in his eyes for just a moment, something childishly restless. He looks at it for a good while, curiously, endeared somehow; looks at his hand around it, and feels his heart do somersaults in his chest. Steeling himself, he begins slowly stroking and says, “Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Alright, alright,” Huck surrenders, and tips his head back against the rough bark of the tree, exhaling a shuddering sigh.

Tom fumbles as deftly as he can manage, which is enough. He lets that foreign, vulnerable urge of his swallow him whole, until it catches Huck between its jaws too. Huck comes twice that night, and Tom ponders how strange and yet welcome a thing it is to hear another man moan the way Huck had, soft and low.

In the end, he finds it quite more welcome than strange.


End file.
